


Stuck In A Rut

by tiigi



Category: Leverage
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: S04e07 The Grave Danger Job, Hardinson centric, Multi, Polyamory, because he deserves it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28466175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiigi/pseuds/tiigi
Summary: Sometimes, when he’s in bed and there is darkness all around him, Hardinson closes his eyes and imagines he is underground again.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64





	Stuck In A Rut

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my folder for long enough, it deserves to see the light of day lol
> 
> Happy new year everyone! <3

Sometimes, when he’s in bed and there is darkness all around him, Hardinson closes his eyes and imagines he is underground again. He doesn’t understand it, because he didn’t  _ enjoy  _ being buried alive, and he still has nightmares about what could have happened.

What if the team had arrived a little later? What if they hadn’t been able to get to him in time? What if…

His throat closes up just thinking about it. He has to turn all the lights on and take big, gasping breaths to calm down. He knows Parker has noticed, but he also knows she won’t say anything about it. She has enough demons of her own to know that some things, for the time being, are best left unsaid. 

Eliot doesn’t have any of the same qualms. They’re on a job when it first becomes a problem. They’re locked up, is the thing: Parker, Hardinson and Eliot. It’s an electronic lock and if Hardinson can hack the building’s security system then he can open all the doors long enough for them all to get out, but he’s finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

The lights are off. The doors had closed, and they had been completely plunged into darkness. Parker and Eliot hover behind him, one at each side and both holding flashlights for him. They’re both shaking a little, which is how he knows they’re getting frustrated with him, but he can’t  _ help  _ it. He can’t turn the lights on until he’s hacked the security system. He can’t hack the security system until the lights come on.

Fuck. 

He doesn’t even notice that his breathing has become erratic until Parker slides a hand over his shoulders, a comforting presence. He reaches up, briefly, to cover her hand with his own, and then pulls away before anyone can comment on it.

“Dammit, Hardinson,” Eliot mutters. “Hurry up. My flashlight is dying.”

Hardinson’s hands tremble and he takes a steadying breath. He can do this. He hacked more secure systems than this when he was fifteen years old. He could do it in his sleep. He just has to  _ concentrate– _

The light goes out.

More accurately, Eliot’s light goes out. There is one single beam of dim light coming from Parker’s torch, but now Hardinson feels disoriented. His phone screen is barely lit up at all and as he tries a new for code the third time, his fingers spasm and it slips from his grasp, clattering to the floor.

_ “Shit,” _ he hisses, stumbling back a few steps. The only thing that keeps him from tripping over his own feet and falling on his ass is Eliot’s arm, strong and firmly wrapped around his waist. The warmth of Eliot’s body, suddenly so close to his own, is startling.

“Easy,” Eliot says, gentle now. “You’re okay.”

Parker is at his side in an instant, her hand cupping his elbow and guiding him to sit down. He draws his knees up to his chest and sucks in air like he’s drowning. With the only remaining flashlight abandoned on the floor, all Hardinson can see is a stretch of grey concrete and his own phone, screen cracked but alive. All hope is not lost.

“What’s happening?” 

“Panic attack. He gets them sometimes, after…” Parker trails off.

Hardinson listens to them speak like he’s underwater. Their voices warble a little, muted and far away, and when he closes his eyes he’s floating far above everyone, detached, weightless.

Alone.

“What do we do?”

Suddenly, there’s the softest brush of a hand against his face, Parker’s knuckles stroking his cheek. It’s a shock, but one that he leans into. Suddenly, Parker is right there floating with him.

“Touch him,” she says.

_ “What?”  _

“He said that when this happens, we should touch him. Ground him. So that he knows he’s still with us.”

“Are you sure?” Eliot sounds hesitant, but Hardinson is surprised to note that it isn’t reluctance in his voice but concern. He’s worried. The knowledge is a balm.

“Yeah,” Parker says, rubbing circles into Hardinson’s back now. “Don’t try to talk. He won’t… he can’t reply.”

Hardinson has had panic attacks like this a few times in the past. They never just disappear, but contact with somebody else does help. Parker, who is always so wonderful and loud and chaotic, has learned to be tender with him. Her touch is fresh air, cool water on a burn.

And then there’s another touch, a different one: one that he has known already, but never in this way. Eliot’s touch is lighter, the daintiest brush of a hand against the back of his neck. Hardinson jolts and Eliot snatches his hand back like he’s been burned. 

His touch is fire. It sends a ripple of excitement across Hardinson’s skin and it feels like a little zap of electricity. 

_ “Eliot,”  _ Parker murmurs pointedly, and then the touch is back, solid and smooth as his hand glides across Hardinson’s back. Hardinson shudders. Barely anything has happened and he already feels undone. 

It takes only a few minutes for Hardinson to come back to himself, a new record. He wouldn’t say it out loud - at least not in front of Eliot, because he’s sure he’d be relentlessly mocked for it - but he thinks it has something to do with the fact that there are two people here with him instead of one, his whole family instead of just a fraction. Not that Parker couldn't draw him out of his panic attacks on her own, because she could, and she has always been happy to do it, to help in any way she can.

But it’s different now, different with Eliot. He feels complete. 

He thinks Parker must feel it too, and probably even Eliot, because when he squints in the darkness Hardinson sees that she has a hand resting on Eliot’s shoulder, and his fingers are curled around Parker’s wrist. It’s oddly intimate, despite the fact that they’re barely touching, and Hardinson can’t stop the flush that creeps up his chest. 

“Okay,” Hardinson says. His voice is nothing more than a croak so he clears his throat and tries again. “Okay. Thank you. Sorry.”

Parker’s hand slides over his shoulder and rubs his chest soothingly, across his throat, and he knows it means,  _ ‘it’s okay, I love you.’  _ Eliot doesn’t touch him again, but he scowls and turns away until only half of his face is visible, the other half shrouded in shadows. 

“Shut up,” he says, seeming almost angry at the apology. “Don’t tell me sorry.”

Hardinson frowns. If it were any earlier he might have thought the man was being combative and unfriendly, but because they’ve been a team for so long, he sees Eliot’s aggression for what it is: vulnerability. He doesn’t like to be soft, to be loving. Or at least, he doesn’t like that he likes it. He’s sort of similar to Parker in that respect, but Parker came around eventually. With help, and patience, she saw that it was okay to bring down her walls sometimes, and hopefully, with help and patience, Eliot will feel the same.

*

“Did you eat my donut  _ again?”  _ Parker’s voice comes from the kitchen, fond and exasperated. Hardinson winces. He… may have eaten her donut, and put back an empty wrapper. He can be a bad roommate like that.

“No,” he says, widening his eyes innocently when Parker pokes her head round the door. “You had donuts? I didn’t notice.”

Parker gasps, deeply offended, and stomps her feet over to the door. “Now I’m going to have to go out,” she says, pulling on her shoes and coat. “And get  _ more  _ donuts. And then I’m going to have to hide them from you because you have no respect for other people’s food.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about!” Hardinson calls after her. Parker chucks a slipper at him on his way out.

He chuckles and settles back against the headboard. It’s been a long, difficult day and he’s looking forward to closing his eyes and drifting off. He may not even be able to wait for Parker to get back, he’s so sleepy. Entirely without meaning to, his eyes slip shut and his head lolls on his shoulder.

And then there’s a knock at the door. 

In his exhausted delusion, Hardinson thinks it’s Parker coming back after having forgotten her wallet or her phone or something similar. It doesn’t matter that that doesn’t make any sense - why would Parker knock on her own door - but he’s too tired to consider any other option. 

“What?” He calls out, voice muffled by a pillow. 

“Hello?” Comes the reply, deep and gravelly and decidedly not Parker. Hardinson lifts his head in confusion. He’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“Eliot?” 

Sure enough, the man stands awkwardly in the doorway, shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets. He looks wildly familiar here and also like he’d rather be anywhere else, both at the same time. Hardinson supposes he can understand that feeling.

“Hi,” Eliot says, cheeks going pink suddenly, and Hardinson follows Eliot’s gaze to his bare chest. It’s too warm in the evenings to sleep with a shirt on, so he’s taken to just wearing boxer shorts. The duvet has fallen around his waist and now he’s half naked in front of Eliot and–

He has no clue how to feel about it.

“Hi,” Hardinson says. “Uh. Parker’s not here right now…”

“No,” Eliot says swiftly, firmly. Then he loses his bravado and peers down at his feet. “I’m here to see you, actually.”

“Me?” Hardinson blinks. He can’t remember the last time either of them made a social call after hours like this. “Are you alright?”

“Are  _ you?”  _ Eliot replies, and looks at him again, really looks, as though he’s reaching into Hardinson’s chest and turning him inside out. His skin tingles. 

“I’m fine. Sorry about today. Wasn’t myself.”

“Parker didn’t seem to think that was true.”

Hardinson looks up sharply. Have they been– talking about him behind his back? Whispering secrets like concerned parents? He bristles, offended at the notion.

“Really,” he says in a very clipped voice. “Well, I’m definitely fine. So…”

His eyes slide conspicuously towards the door, but Eliot doesn’t take the hint. Secretly, Hardinson is kind of glad. He doesn’t want Eliot to leave.

“I’ve just…” Eliot trails off, looking conflicted. He shuffles further into the room and the door shuts softly behind him. He comes to the edge of the bed and sits on the edge, hesitant, as though he doesn’t feel that he belongs here. A blanket of silence descends over them and Hardinson relaxes, despite his agitation earlier. This is Eliot. He  _ knows  _ Eliot - Eliot is family.

“I’ve just never seen you like that before,” he finishes suddenly, and looks up, and his eyes are blazing with such intensity that Hardinson has to breathe in and out through his nose before he can even think about answering. 

“Like what?”

Silence again. Communicating so openly has always been something Hardinson values - his grandma taught him early on that relationships are only as honest as the people in them - but for Eliot he knows it’s difficult. He holds his cards close to his chest, so that he never has to risk his own heart.

“Scared. I don’t know. You looked… trapped.” He takes a moment to collect his thoughts. Then he says, “You know, when you got taken, when they took you, I didn’t know what to do. I felt so powerless. You were gone and we were looking for you but–”

He cuts himself off with a wet, ragged gasp. Hardinson watches, awed. “We couldn’t find you. I didn’t know whether we’d find you or not. I told myself I’d kill them. If anything happened to you, I’d make sure every single one of them died horribly. You know, I’ve done awful things. I’ve been in awful, terrible situations and I’ve still never felt as fucking powerless as I did when you–”

_ When you were buried,  _ he doesn’t say. He doesn’t need to. 

His fingers suddenly brush against the back of Hardinson’s hand, the lightest touch. He turns it over so his palm is facing upwards, and Eliot doesn’t hesitate to lace their fingers together. 

“I was scared,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “I was scared.”

“I’m here,” Hardinson says. “I’m here. I’m okay. Nothing happened to me.”

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say. It seems to snap Eliot out of whatever sentimental trance he’d fallen into, because he snatches his hand back like the touch hurts him.

“Yeah,” he says roughly. “You are. And you have Parker. So you’re fine. I mean, I knew you were fine. Thought you were. Earlier today… I’ve never seen you like that. But of course you have Parker, and she knew what to do. So you’re fine. I should probably go.”

“Don’t.” Hardinson’s hand shoots out before he can think it through and he wraps his fingers around Eliot’s wrist. Eliot freezes.

“Alec…” he says.

“You helped.” He doesn’t fully realise how true that is until he says it out loud. “Parker… she always knows what to do. She always helps. But you– you helped too. Having you there… it was like being full again.”

He doesn’t know where his candidness comes from. Part of him is worried that Eliot will laugh this off and reject his unspoken question, but Hardinson knows he wouldn’t do that. Not about something this important, this personal.

“I have Parker,” Hardinson says slowly. “And she has me. But don’t I have you too?”

It feels like an age, waiting for Eliot to make a decision. When he finally, finally does, he sits down again and takes Hardinson’s hand. “You have me,” he says, soft but scarily intense. “Always.”

And then, as though he is only just now realising it, “And I– I have you too.”

“Us.”

Both Hardinson and Eliot jump, visibly startled. Parker is leaning against the opposite wall, a brown paper bag clutched in one hand. 

“I came in through the window,” she explains when she sees them staring. “I didn't want to ruin your moment. Plus, I was bored.”

Hardinson looks to Eliot, waiting worriedly for his reaction. Will this have scared him away? Closed him off again? But, to Hardinson’s relief, Eliot is the first to laugh.

“We escaped death this morning,” he says. “And you’re telling me you’re bored?”

Parker grins her trademark crooked grin and clambers onto he bed next to them like this is something they do all the time. Hardinson falls more in love with her every day.

“Oh, don’t tell me you aren’t bored too.” She rolls her eyes.

Eliot pauses, and then inclined his head. Eliot admitting defeat - Hardinson never thought he’d see the day. “Maybe,” he says. “But you don’t see me scaling the walls.”

Hardinson watches them both with a gentle smile. There’s so much love for them both, in his chest, in his heart, that it’s overwhelming. He doesn’t know how it hasn’t burst out of him yet, doesn’t know how he can breathe sometimes with how much he cares for them.

He still gets nightmares sometimes, and he still has panic attacks now and then, but it’s okay. He’ll be okay - they all will.

They have each other, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! <3


End file.
